


(Un)Foreseen

by Officer_Jennie



Series: MadaTobi Week [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, M/M, MadaTobi Week 2019, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-07-30 19:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20102200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Tobirama is married off to the Uchiha, and knows all too well it will be his end.(imagine his surprise, then, when he grows to prosper)MadaTobi Week Day 1 - Arranged Marriage





	1. Chapter 1

On some level, Tobirama had always known his father saw him as less than. Less than the heir he’d hoped his son would be. Less than Hashirama, who had proved time and again his worth to the Senju clan (despite his obvious reluctance to destroy his Uchiha rival). Less than what he should have been, not able to bring an alliance to the table without reducing the clan’s warrior force as his brother could.

Until that moment, he’d simply never seen how little use he’d become to Butsuma.

He left his father’s study in a daze, the beginnings of dread worming around in his stomach. The only sound in the hall was his footsteps, ears ringing hollow the words Butsuma had spoken to him.

A marriage. He was to be married.

His room had always been cooler than the rest of the house, that fact compounded now by the window he’d left open all afternoon. The curtains swayed in the late autumn breeze, rustling together, their soft song competing with the overwhelming dread that was trying to take over him. All Tobirama could do for a minute was stare at them, still trying and failing to think past the news now weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Most probably wouldn’t see a marriage proposal as so damning. But, then, most wouldn’t have to analyze the political implications so heavily. Something he’d been doing all his life, had _had _to do his whole life for his clan, though being knowledgeable about such matters wouldn’t actually help him now.

Without thought about the early hour, Tobirama dropped down heavy onto his futon. Still in his evening wear. Light chain mail still cool against his chest. Sounds of the clan going about their business drifting in with the breeze, Hashirama’s steady signature at the edge of the compound, large and warm where he was off meeting with Touka and entirely too far away to bring him any comfort.

How long until he would no longer have the luxury of feeling them even that close to him, he wondered. It mattered little, really; no matter the answer, the end would be the same.

Tobirama got no sleep that night, and in the morning when his hand automatically reached for his herbal medication he had to stop himself. He scowled down at the stash, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, breathing in the false scent that everyone thought was naturally his.

He closed the drawer quietly, and left his room in silence as well, swallowing back the instinctual urge to run from what would surely be his death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Next Chapter Update: **8-18-19


	2. Chapter 2

Hashirama had taken the news well, not that it was unexpected for him to do so. He had thrown himself onto Tobirama with all the cheer and tears that were typical for him, oblivious to a fault and ignorant to the implications behind the proposal that should have drawn his attention.

Part of Tobirama was hurt that he’d seen nothing - the part that still childishly held onto that belief that his big brother could do everything, see everything, save him from anything that might threaten his person or life. But he silenced that part rather quickly in the face of his father, knowing the role he had to play no matter where it would ultimately lead him.

It took a grand total of nine days for Hashirama to catch something was wrong. That Tobirama’s scent had changed, that his little brother was practically hiding in the house, leaving neither for missions nor for his personal lab built near the southern entrance to the compound. He came searching for him in his room, a puzzled and concerned frown tugging his face down, his weight shifting in the doorway as if he wasn’t certain he should be there at all.

“Otouto… Why do you smell like a…?”

Not a single part of him ever wanted to have this conversation. Still, he waved his brother in, scooting over so he could share the large sitting cushion he had at his desk. Because of the nature of his secret, he waited until the door was firmly shut behind his brother, trusting in the privacy seals he’d personally weaved into the walls and door to keep their words from any prying ears.

It didn’t really matter if they were overheard, really. Whether then, or a few days from then, or whenever the wedding would be held, the clan would find out the second heir was an omega - and find him lacking for such a small portion of his being.

Admitting his most well-hidden and longest kept secret struck a chord in him similar to fear, despite Hashirama being the one person he trusted more than anyone else in his life. Seeing the strike of hurt and betrayal across his brother’s face made him nearly flinch back. It was to be expected, of course. Tobirama might look and seem like someone who shared little of his private life, but he’d found a steady confidant in his brother nonetheless over the years. He’d trusted him with information on his jutsu work, files he’d found that his father would have burned in an instant, research he’d done himself on subjects that made Hashirama’s nose wrinkle with worry and a touch of disgust at the taboo nature of them.

His brother had kept all his secrets - all of the important ones, at the very least. And to have kept something considered _so massive_ by their clan and society from him…

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” It wasn’t in Hashirama’s nature to hide his pain, and it dripped from his words, etched into the way he crumpled into himself. Tobirama had to take a moment to respond, closing his eyes and willing his own emotions down for the time being.

Right now, none of this mattered. But Hashirama deserved the truth at some point. There had been a part of him that had planned on telling him eventually, long after their father was out of their lives and not able to retaliate if he’d discovered Tobirama’s secret was out, even despite the fact that he never wished to discuss it with anyone. It didn’t mean he’d ever allowed himself to think through that potential conversation, nor did he ever imagine it would be happening _so soon_.

“You know how omega are viewed.”

“Yeah, but…you’re my brother. Nothing would have changed between us.”

“Nothing?” The sentiment was warm, but it couldn’t ever be the truth, not even coming from the most honest person he’d ever known. “Anija, if the clan ever found out, I would have lost my rights as an heir. My position in the clan would be taken from me - my position in the field, _at your side_, gone. I’m easily the second-best fighter the Senju have, and I wouldn’t have been able to even take missions let alone take part in the war.”

A warm hand found the one currently clenching the fabric covering his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t have told a soul. Not even Touka! I still won’t.”

Tobirama shook his head but didn’t force Hashirama’s hand away. What little comfort he could take at that moment, he would. “They’ll find out soon anyway, thanks to the engagement.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue, foul like rot. His disgust went unnoticed though; in the face of something so promising for his dreams of the future, Hashirama could see little of what was right in front of him, his entire being brightening up at the reminder.

“Isn’t it wonderful though, Tobira? We’ll finally have peace. There won’t be a need for you or me in the war if there isn’t one!”

He wished it were so simple. Wished he could fool himself into believing such a move could work: marrying one clan heir to another, tying blood enemies together by blood. But the cold nature of his father’s tone when he’d spoken of the arrangement told him everything - and he knew. He knew where this would lead him, where it would lead the whole country in the end.

But he couldn’t tell Hashirama. No matter his confidence in his brother, or how it pained him to keep yet another secret.

“Do you know when it will be official?”

Tobirama gave a slight shrug of one shoulder, fiddling with a loose piece of parchment on his desk. “Since the clan heads have already discussed it and signed documents, it’s already official.”

“No, I mean - when will it _actually_ be official?” Hashirama bounced their hands on Tobirama’s knee, a bright grin still shinning across his face. It drew a small huff of laughter out of Tobirama, nothing more than a sharper exhale through his nose. His brother had never cared much for papers and missives and documents, finding them too dull, never able to sit still quite long enough to fill them out properly.

Who would help keep him on task, now that Tobirama was being sent away? Who would be patient enough to walk him through the difficulties of being the clan heir, would double and triple check to make sure no one was taking advantage of his dangerously generous nature?

“Next month at the latest.” The words sounded dull even to his own ears but Hashirama prattled on, unaware and far too deep in his fantasies to notice how tight Tobirama’s grip was on his hand.

A month was all he had left with his family. One that would be filled with meetings and planning, all on top of their usual duties. After that, he would be thrown to the wolves, alone amongst those who would rather see him dead than living alongside them.

And that was without them _knowing_ that he was no use to them.

That single month both dragged on and passed by far too quickly.

Several meetings between the clan heads were held outside of the compound, off in neutral territories where neither could theoretically take the advantage. They were meetings Tobirama normally would have had to attend, within his rights and duties as one of the heirs, but already his status was changing within the Senju. Omega had no say in political matters, and as such was the case Tobirama was left behind in the compound while his father and brother went off to discuss his fate without him - where he would be used as a bargain chip to appease the Uchiha.

Dropping from a member with severe political sway to one whose only duty was to stay home and remain _pure_ rankled to say the least. Having Touka visit him so often helped ease a bit of the stress, but there were only so many hours she could spare in-between her own missions and duties. Not to mention how initially strained their relationship was after he’d been found out. Touka had ever been one with an open mind, but she was blunt to a fault; keeping secrets from her never ended well.

The days of irritated stress and being cramped in the main house couldn’t last. And when his father finally called him into his office to tell him the date of his wedding, Tobirama instantly missed the ease of not knowing.

“Isn’t it a bit soon?” He tried not to sway on the spot, eyes focused passed his father at the calligraphy hanging on his wall. It spoke of filial piety, of putting many above the few, and just the sight of it made him feel ill. “Two days can’t be enough time to send out the necessary invitations, find a priest, a willing shrine…”

“Your input is unnecessary.” ‘Unwelcome’ went unsaid, but his father’s tone made it clear either way. Tobirama blinked and forced himself to focus, to not drift further and say anything else that might earn him trouble. “Everything is already planned and settled; just make sure to be presentable for your mating.”

_Mating_. It wasn’t meant to sound so foul. But the way his father said it made his skin crawl, the chill of the office making it no better.

Everything was already planned without him. Tobirama was merely an attendee at his own marriage ceremony, expected to be _presentable_ for the mate that had been chosen for him.

He still hadn’t dared to ask which brother he was meant for. Wasn’t sure which would end up better or worse for him in the end.

That night brought him no sleep. By the time midnight rolled passed he gave up trying, lighting a small candle to place on his windowsill as he sat staring at the stars. The scent of his room no longer felt familiar, as if a foreign omega had invaded his space, its scent heavy on his skin and clothes.

It all smelled wrong. Felt wrong. He rested his head on his arms, letting one hand hang low out the window and brush against the flowers Hashirama had planted there. The visceria brushed against his fingers, jutting out from the small rock garden, soft pinks and purples and reds dulled by the night and hardly visible through his already poor eyesight.

Did anyone bother with keeping rock gardens where he was going? Any gardens at all? His eyes slid shut against the moonlight, breaths stuttering as the cold breeze mussed with his hair.

All his life, Tobirama had followed orders down to the letter. It had gained him something akin to favor when it came to his father, teasing from his cousin about being too much like a stick, exacerbated hands in the air when dealing with his brother. Now felt a little too late to be considering any alternatives besides being the soldier he’d been raised to be and marching on to his fate.

But Tobirama didn’t want to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Next Chapter Update: **9-1-19
> 
> Floriography:  
Visceria - "Will you dance with me?"


	3. Chapter 3

Life had a way of creeping along even when one had no desire for it to ever move. The final days before the wedding passed in a haze, Tobirama finding himself more and more withdrawn as the seconds passed into minutes passed into hours. Sleep continued to evade him, to the point where the night before Hashirama brewed him tea from the herbs in his garden, ones that knocked him unconscious with no dreams or thoughts to disturb him.

Then, the day was upon him.

Being the mate given away had not gained him any rights to information about his wedding, despite how unfair that was in his mind. His father kept his thumb on every detail in his stead, maids and clan dignitaries bustling about the compound before dawn had even lit their paths. No one bothered to wake him until well passed his normal waking time, Hashirama coming into the room with some fresh coffee and a light breakfast of little more than rice and eggs.

“For the nerves,” he said, with a soft and loving smile over at his little brother. “I know how stressed you must be.”

Stressed wasn’t the word for it. But Tobirama didn’t correct him, only thanked him politely and tried not to simply push the grains around his bowl.

After breakfast, his preparations began. Two clan members knocked on his bedroom door and were ushered in, Hashirama waving a momentary goodbye as he ducked out to fulfill his own duties before the ceremony. It left Tobirama in his room with the omegas he had no name for, strangers in his most private place that he locked most everyone out of - everyone save his own brother and Touka when she bullied him into it.

That was all changing, of course. Soon it wouldn’t be his room at all - and his bedroom would be shared with an Uchiha.

At least he managed to convince the two omega that he could bathe himself.

Dressed and bathed proper for his future mate, Tobirama had a moment to breathe. To look around the room he’d be leaving behind, at the walls and ceilings he’d stared at over the many nights he couldn’t handle the stress of being a shinobi. At the chips in his low desk that he’d scratched into the wood, a tick that had given him more splinters than he could count. The yellowed spot in the wall from when Hashirama had tripped and spilled food everywhere, ruining the tatami and staining the wallpaper permanently.

All the memories he would be leaving behind, with no chance of ever returning. He moved to the window, one hand brushing the curtain away to stare off in the direction of the clan cemetery. Memories of the past, of people he loved and lost, all to be left behind _today_.

“Tobirama-sama.” One of the omega stood in his doorway, their voice soft but not in any familiar way. They did not know him. They didn’t know how tight his chest felt, nor the dread that soured in his stomach.

He turned and followed them out of his room, out of the house he’d been born and raised in, and out of the compound where he always thought he’d be buried.

Having been left out of the wedding plans meant he didn’t know the exact location of the ceremony, but he knew enough about politics to know it would be on neutral territory - just as all of the meetings had been. Being a skilled sensor worked in his favor then, the Uchiha signatures like a beacon just outside of Senju territory. He met up with Hashirama just outside of the gates of their compound, his father and several other council members waiting for them, all more formally dressed then he’d seen them before.

With his lips pursing, Tobirama bit back a comment about how it would have been easier to travel their first and _then_ dress in formal attire. He knew his input was no longer welcome in any fashion, no matter that it would have been more traditional anyway. Most arranged marriages would have taken place in a third party’s hall, with separate housing for the two joining clans; it was the way Hashirama’s had been whenever he’d married the Uzumaki princess, and it was odd that his father wouldn’t arrange the same for him.

It felt misplanned at best, and dangerous at worst. A glance over at his brother told him he was the only one who thought so - Hashirama could hardly stand still in his excitement, grin beaming about despite the glowering looks their father kept giving him over it.

Their trek did not last long, though he could not decide whether that was a blessing or a curse. Once they made it passed the trees he spotted a small wooden structure - a shrine, which had been crafted by Hashirama if the bits of chakra he sensed there were anything to go off of. The flowers and bushes all coloring the area bright and sunny were no doubt his doing as well, assortments of chrysanthemums, clematis climbing up the wooden beams of the shrine, daffodils and baby’s breath dotted here and there, and a plethora of others Tobirama had no name for surrounding the building as well. Knowing his brother, he’d picked them all for a reason, but all the hours spent listening to his brother droll on about the floriography was lost to the panicked beat of his heart.

Uchiha were scattered about the area as well. Not in necessarily large clusters, there being less than a dozen of them total, but spread out enough where Tobirama had to force himself not to try and keep an eye on all of them. They were not here to fight. They were here to make peace, no matter how false his father’s offer was beneath the surface.

It didn’t make his spine stop shivering the second one of them was behind him.

The unnamed Uchiha members did not matter anyway. His father strode towards the shrine with his head high, Hashirama just as confident as he followed behind him, followed shortly after by the rest of the council members that had joined their journey.

Seeing his father march towards Uchiha Tajima did not help with his nerves. If anything, it had his hand automatically moving to his side, for the weapon that would have been strapped there if this had been a battlefield. This wasn’t a clash of swords, however, but a clash of wits and politics - one he was forced to take a passive role in.

Falling into place behind the council members, Tobirama approached the shrine, ducking beneath blooming vines that hung from the archways that lead up to the doorway. The actual building had little more room than was necessary to house a bell and a place for offerings. From the back wall hung an ornate mirror, etched with symbols from all of the clans dotted across Hi no Kuni, painted orange and white gold. If he’d had to guess, Tobirama would have said it must have been a gift from their shogun; considering he hadn’t shown up himself, he would have had to send something to show his blessing for the union.

Both of the Uchiha brothers were there, dressed in formal attire, neither of their faces covered by the typical high collared garb of their clan. Their matching dour expressions didn’t help Tobirama gage which one was here to take part in the ceremony alongside him, nor did Izuna’s sneering help once the Uchiha finally looked his way.

His father and Tajima were already exchanging thinly veiled insults whenever he stopped behind his father and brother, stiff clothing unbearably hot in the still cool hours of the day. Hashirama was doing his best to stand still and not fidget, on his best behavior despite how obviously he wanted to speak with his former friend. Obvious to Tobirama, anyway, who had to reach out and discreetly tug his brother back into place so no one else could see how he was full body leaning forward towards the other clan’s heir. Now wasn’t the time to remind anyone of past failures in their clans’ relations, especially ones dealing with members seeking out means of peace.

The civilian priest hired to lead the ceremony looked so small amongst the shinobi despite his height, nerves evident in the way his hands shook and the sweat on his forehead. He still cleared his throat to gain their attention, the metal rings on his stave dully clinking together as he shifted his weight. “Now that the offered omega is present, with the blessings of both fathers the ceremony can begin.”

_The offered omega_. Tobirama willed his breathing to remain steady, his expression to stay calm and not show any of the turmoil currently tying his stomach into knots. Once Butsuma gave his ascent and stepped to the side, Tobirama came to stand in front of his clan members, watching and waiting to find out which brother he would be married to until death.

When Madara took a step forward, dread filled him.

Their ceremony was a small one. Little more than a few words passed between them, rehearsed things that meant nothing beyond the act of saying them. Hashirama’s emotional sniffing did nothing to cut through the pit of anxiety that Tobirama had found himself in as he took Madara’s outstretched hand, watching as the priest wrapped them together with a silk rope, the ends of which were placed in Madara’s palm.

When the gathering was over, stilted farewells spoken between the heads of the clan, Tobirama watched the backs of his family recede into the tree line, wishing he could call out for his brother - who had remained in check the entire ceremony, without even breaking into tears or giving him a smothering hug like he might normally.

But he had a role to fulfill. One final job before his ever encroaching death ruined peace for them all.

Madara didn’t say so much as a word to him the entire journey to the Uchiha compound, nor did he even glance in his direction. So it was in complete silence that Tobirama followed his new husband home, trying his best to ignore the heated glares the rest of the Uchiha unashamedly sent at his back. It was simply something he’d have to get used to now that he was going to live with them, an outsider who had no place in their clan to begin with and would never belong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next chapter update:** 9-15-19
> 
> Floriography:  
Daffodile - New beginnings  
Chrysanthemums - Joy  
Clematis - Ingenuity and mental beauty  
Baby's breath - Festivity


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up: Eventually, the rating for this story might change due to the inclusion of sexual content, but if that happens it won't be until Madara and Tobirama are grossly in love and all that disgusting stuff. No pre-love sex detailed in this story!

The morning found Tobirama staring off towards the closed window of Madara’s bedroom, covers up to his chin as he tried to ignore how heated his face was. Madara had already gotten up for the morning, joints cracking as he’d stretched and gone to do whatever his routine was, no doubt purposely acting as if he hadn’t just woken up next to one of his lifelong enemies _naked_.

One night was not long enough for Tobirama to be used to that, or even for him to be capable of _pretending_ to be used to it. He pulled the covers right up over his nose, squirming around a bit at the light soreness in his hips and lower back.

He’d only ever seen Madara as a violent creature before. A god on the battlefield, eyes and teeth gleaming as he spilled blood and spit fire and felled all in his path. Careful…had never been a word he’d thought would be in Madara’s vocabulary, let alone found in his actions towards anyone.

There’s been no passion, of course. No meeting of souls like many of the Senju omega would sigh dreamily about when Tobirama would overhear them speaking to each other of their mates. Not that he’d expected any from his new husband; he’d had none to give, so why would he expect to receive any?

Laying around and thinking about it wasn’t going to do anything for him. Tobirama considered the blanket for a moment before dragging it out of bed with him, searching around the room until he found the small pack he’d been allowed to bring with him. It only held a few changes of clothes but he hadn’t needed many anyway. He threw on the first ones he grabbed, then stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, hesitating.

Was he allowed to leave the room on his own? His freedoms when it came to his new home hadn’t really been discussed yet. Shifting his weight, Tobirama glanced about the room, wondering if he should try to find a way to occupy himself in here rather than risk overstepping a boundary less than a full day into his time here. The room was rather bare, nothing but typical bedroom supplies and a book here and there. Books could certainly keep him entertained, but then again they weren’t _his_.

How did omega _do this_? Relocate to a new home, into a family they knew nothing about, without any discussion of boundaries beforehand. Though his situation was a bit atypical (most omega didn’t travel quite so far from home to be with new mates), it still seemed like a far from ideal situation.

At least his access to chakra hadn’t been cut off. He still had his ability to sense those around him, able to tell with just a flicker of chakra where Madara was in the house. If he remembered correctly from the brief glance he had about, Madara wasn’t anywhere near the kitchen at least - he was off either in a section of the house he hadn’t seen yet, or outside somewhere near the house, so that meant that a potential pop in to get food didn’t have much of a chance of causing a scene.

With that thought in mind, Tobirama slid the door to the room as quietly as he could, wincing a bit when the wood creaked. Since his own bedroom door creaked on purpose (to alert him of any unwelcome guests, no matter how careful they were about being silent), he used the same trick he did with his own to make it quiet, lifting the door as he pushed. It worked, so he suspected the frame had been warped on purpose like his own.

He didn’t bother shutting the door, planning on being back in the room before anyone could meander that way. The house was empty save for him and Madara anyway, making his careful steps perhaps a bit unnecessary. He couldn’t help wanting to remain as silent as possible, no matter that it would make him look suspicious. Part of him- rather, _most _of him, felt like he was in enemy territory. Alone. Hardly unarmed since his chakra was not bound, but without the familiar weight of a weapon’s pouch or katana at his side, he was on edge.

Really, he’d be on edge here with them as well.

It took a bit longer than he’d hoped to find the kitchen, despite his stellar memory and good sense of direction. The Uchiha main house was a large, square building, and one wrong turn meant he had to walk almost the entire circumference just to find what he was looking for. It took him closer to Madara than he’d liked, every cell in his being screaming that he should dampen his chakra. He didn’t. He knew better. Sneaking around the man’s house could get him killed faster than he was already going to be in this compound.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, Tobirama felt like a good few years had been shaved off his life. The tension had his shoulders aching already, and no amount of rolling them or stretching his neck seemed to help alleviate it. He very much wanted this day to be over with, so he could sleep and maybe, if he was lucky, wake up in his own room long before any of this marriage shit had ever started.

Maybe this time he’d bolt and not _let_ it happen.

Even knowing that was a lie, Tobirama snorted with a bit of dry humor, imagining the look on his father’s face when he might find out his second son had abandoned the clan. It helped a bit with his current overwhelming anxiety, letting him walk through the kitchen and search through the cupboards, in search of something decent enough to keep him full for a while.

Most of what he found was spices. Dozens upon dozens of different containers, tins and little glass bottles. He couldn’t put a name to well over half of them, stopping on occasion to sniff and taste, knowing he probably shouldn’t be that nosy but unable to help himself. Curiosity had bit him as a child and never let go, and had ever been his strongest vice since.

He found out the hard way that the Uchiha apparently loved hot spices. With his tongue and throat on fire, Tobirama went straight to the ice box, ripping it open to search desperately for some sort of dairy product.

Cheese wasn’t the best option, but considering the pain he was in, Tobirama lowered himself to stuffing his mouth with it in hopes to calm some of the anger clawing its way down his throat. He coughed and nearly choked, but after finally swallowing down two mouthfuls of cheese he felt like he could breathe again.

Still didn’t help him _see_. His eyes were watering horribly, making Tobirama blindly feel out for the sink, scrubbing his hands until the skin felt raw before trying to dab some of the tears away.

By the end of that disaster, he was left with a healthy dose of skepticism for the rest of the spices, and plenty wary as well. He glared at the offending spice, not even willing to touch the bottle it was in with his bare hands just in case the heat might osmosis through the glass and onto his hands to attack him later.

Not that it _could_ osmosis through, since it wasn’t water. But still.

He didn’t have as much of an appetite after that. Nothing really sounded like it would go with too much cheese and hellish spice. Tobirama still wandered about the kitchen, searching for some actual food to keep his stomach full until the next meal.

Whenever that might be. He had no way of knowing when he might be able to sneak out of the room again without fear of running into or pissing off one of his new _in-laws_.

Tobirama paused his search, holding up a container of crackers as he considered that last thought. Perhaps it would be wise to take something back to the room with him? Something non-perishable, in case it was a while before he could sneak out again.

“What are you doing?”

Tobirama spun around, instinctually hiding the container behind his back like he was some naughty child caught with something they shouldn’t have. He’d been so deep in thought over _nothing_ that he hadn’t even sensed Madara leave what was probably his home office, nor had he heard the man coming down the hall towards him either.

Well. So much for not running into anyone. Or provoking anyone his first day there.

Clearing his throat, Tobirama did his best to not appear as if he’d been doing anything wrong, though he couldn’t bear to bring himself to meet Madara’s eyes like he would most anyone else’s. It might make him look guilty, but that had been drilled into his brain since the moment he’d been born. Avoid an Uchiha’s gaze, no matter how unassuming or docile they might seem.

And Madara was neither.

“Food.” It took far too much effort to work that one word out, though he tried to make it sound casual. Since he could only see him out of the corner of his eye, it was difficult to gage Madara’s reaction; not for the first time in his life, Tobirama cursed his poor vision.

Didn’t help that he didn’t know the Uchiha well enough to read his moods. From what he’d gathered so far, there was really only one or two: angry and murderous, or just angry. How was it that Hashirama became friends with this man so long ago?

Madara shifted in the doorway, and Tobirama instantly tense at the movement. As far as he knew, the man didn’t have any weapons on him, but neither of them would _need_ weapons to kill someone. No shinobi did, not after they were trained - and Madara was on a whole other level to even Tobirama.

His own tension didn’t go unnoticed. Madara stilled, his chest hardly even moving with his breaths. For a few seconds, the air itself felt electric in the room, their chakra on edge and ready to strike.

They were enemies. They always had been, and no small ceremony forced upon them by their clan heads would change that. They had been raised to _kill_ each other, not exist in the same house or room.

A single small movement brought all of that right back to the forefront. All the training and knowledge of how to fight the other, all of the instilled caution and fighting instinct. Just one single twitch and both were ready to fall over the knife’s edge.

But Madara let out a deep breath. His shoulders untensed with it, and Tobirama felt his body trying to sag with relief.

“Food. Right.” The Uchiha glanced around his kitchen, shifting his weight again, not making any move to come further into the room or leave.

Silence took the room, but this time it felt more awkward than dangerous. Awkward made sense for them, at least. How was one supposed to make small talk with someone they’d never expected to be on any sort of good terms with? Especially after they’d been _married_ and shared a wedding bed?

Not the best time to think about that. Tobirama felt his face heating up, pointedly staring out the little window above the sink, noting that there apparently was an inner garden that the house had been built around. Perhaps that would be his next destination when he felt it safe to sneak about again. Somewhere peaceful, outside but still not too open, separated from the rest of the compound that probably wanted to see his head on a pike more than on his own body.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be surprised when Madara didn’t dawdle around much longer in the kitchen with him. On the one hand, he understood entirely why the other wouldn’t want to be around him - his very presence in his house, his _home_, probably felt like an invasion. But on the other, it was odd that the man didn’t want to watch him more closely.

Then again, Madara was a skilled sensor in his own right. Perhaps it was a testament to the Uchiha’s faith in his own skills, or perhaps it was a statement to Tobirama himself: that Madara did not fear his presence there, and thought there would be no reason to have to watch him.

In their lives, there wasn’t a single action that had no hidden meaning. Not even the act of walking away from someone. Or at least that had always been Tobirama’s experience.

Exhausted from that single and brief run in, Tobirama grabbed the first thing he found in the ice box to shove in his face and retired to the one room he knew he was _allowed_ in. At least it wasn’t so different from home in the bedroom. Tobirama snorted without humor as he shut the door behind him, remembering how he’d been locked in his own home like a prisoner before coming here anyway.

One prison for another. Except this one didn’t have a doting brother to distract him on occasion, nor did it have his personal library - so many priceless novels and tomes left to waste and collect dust, since he knew full well no one else would read them.

That room was where he stayed for most of his first day in the Uchiha compound, not even sneaking out to find more food since he sensed both the clan head and the other clan heir return around supper. He poked around in the few drawers in the room but ended up stopping once he realized the contents of one of them was rather _private_, face burning as he tried to remind himself that such things would probably come up at least once before he died at the hands of one Uchiha or another.

Didn’t mean he wanted to discover any of Madara’s _interests_ on his own. Husband or not, there were some things Tobirama really didn’t want to think about, considering it was already beyond awkward being around the man.

Night fell a little too early for his liking, with it unease pitting in his gut. Tobirama did his best not to pace as he waited for Madara’s inevitable return to the room - it was the Uchiha’s room originally, after all - not ready to give up his false privacy despite how boring it had been. But inevitable meant it was going to happen whether Tobirama wanted it to or not, and before he knew it he felt Madara’s massive chakra coming down the hall towards him.

It felt irritated. Always felt irritated, really, or at least as far as Tobirama could tell. He hadn’t been around the man nearly long enough to figure out if that’s just what it felt like, or if Madara really was walking around all day every day in some form of a concealed conniption.

He really wouldn’t put it past the cantankerous alpha.

The smell of food preceded the Uchiha into the room, making Tobirama’s empty stomach protest. It wasn’t the longest he’d ever been without food, especially since when he got on a research binge he’d forget to eat for whole days sometimes, but usually Hashirama was around even then to poke and prod at him until he gave in and ate something. But those hunger strikes of a sort had never really been on purpose, just an effect of being far too distracted to notice his own body’s anger at him.

Madara, as it turned out, had brought a bento with him. It was wrapped up in a simple blue handkerchief, decently sized enough to hold enough food for one adult - though why the Uchiha hadn’t simply eaten when he’d been in the kitchen with his family was a bit of a mystery.

With the other man in the room, Tobirama really had no idea what to do with himself. He just stood awkwardly off to the side, as Madara stood in the doorway, the both of them staring just passed the other one’s shoulder.

Of course, Madara had yet tried to meet his eyes since the ceremony.

Someone else was coming down the hall. Madara turned his head towards them, then frowned, stepping further into the room and shutting the door. It left the room darker in the absence of the hallway light, only as dark as it had been before Madara had opened the door but it _felt_ darker still.

Being in the same room alone with the Uchiha was suffocating.

“I, erm.” Madara coughed, shaking the bento still dangling from one hand. “Brought food. Dinner.”

Tobirama wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with that information. He messed with a hole in the tatami with one of his toes, trying not to fidget too noticeably with discomfort. “I can see that.”

Apparently, that was _not_ what he was supposed to do with it. The spark of irritation was palpable in Madara’s chakra, and it was all he could do not to flinch away from it - and Tobirama _loathed_ that that was his instinctual response, flinching away instead of being ready to defend himself. Because here in this place he _had_ no defense, none that would matter against this man if he chose to draw a weapon on him.

“You can’t just- what did you even eat today?”

Tobirama crossed his arms tightly over his chest, not at all happy with Madara’s tone - but not really able to say anything about it. “I had breakfast.” Not much for breakfast, either. Was he really expected to starve himself? Expected to perhaps wait to be fed on their schedule? Would he really have so little freedom?

He already wanted to go home, and it stung unimaginably knowing that _this_ was his home now.

“Breakfast? _Only breakfast_?” Madara crossed the room like he wanted _war_, and it was all Tobirama could do to stay still, right up until the moment Madara was glaring up at him with little more than a few inches separating them. “Do you honestly think you can survive on just _breakfast_?”

He didn’t have time to respond or question that, suddenly finding his hands full, and Tobirama was left blinking down at the wrapped bento as Madara stalked off towards one of the wall closets, the whole while mumbling and fuming under his breath.

The bento felt heavier than it looked. Tobirama kept an eye on Madara while he unwrapped it, finding a pair of chopsticks and several different compartments wrapped up in the handkerchief. He had to sit on the floor to pull them all out, sniffing at the seemingly plain rice and the cooked mackerel, beyond befuddled about why Madara had taken the time to bring him food.

Unless it was poisoned. Tobirama took the smallest nibble of rice, but he wasn’t able to detect any from taste. It wouldn’t be the best or easiest way to kill him, of course, but it would be a way that could be played off as assassination by any number of Uchiha or Senju enemies.

Not how he’d ever imagined he would go, but it would be effective. His father would be displeased by the turn of events, of course…

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Tobirama didn’t understand why his own thoughts made him feel guilty. Maybe it was the tone of Madara’s voice when he told him that, how flat it sounded, so unlike the normal colorful tones he used every other time he spoke. Almost like he’d _expected_ the mistrust but loathed it all the same.

Or perhaps he was just tired. With his new husband, or with life in general. Tobirama didn’t confirm or deny his own suspicions, instead deciding that if he was to die by poisoning he might as well get it over with - and enjoy the food while he was at it.

If it was poisoned, it had no immediate effect on him. Tobirama ate the contents of every single compartment, keeping his head turned away from Madara as he heard the sound of clothes rustling across the room. They might be married, and might share a marriage bed, but he wasn’t going to invade the man’s privacy in such a fashion.

Not that he wanted to, of course. Madara might be somewhat attractive if one squinted at him in the right lighting, but he was _Madara_ \- and no marriage or mating ceremony would change that vital fact.

When it was his turn to get ready for bed, Tobirama changed as quickly as he could, wondering for a brief moment if he’d live long enough for this to feel normal. He doubted it, of course, but the thought was a strange one nonetheless, one that made crawling into bed next to his mate even more awkward than it already was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Scheduled Update:** 9-29-19  
(hopefully. ngl it's not finished yet)


	5. Chapter 5

Braving a trip to the middle garden turned out to be the highlight of Tobirama’s week. It had taken full days of boredom to ignore the instinct to hide inside and venture out, and the moment he stepped foot outside the Uchiha main household was the first moment of relief he’d felt in months.

Relief was relative, of course. None of the stress was truly gone from his mind and nor was the knowledge that he wouldn’t survive here. But with the sound of water slowly flowing over rocks, the sharp and rhythmic sound of the souzu cutting through the otherwise silence, the way the koi swam right up to him and stuck their mouths out of the water to beg for food - it all felt so _familiar_, like he was still at home, all those years before when Hashirama still had the time to keep up their late mother’s garden (before their father had decided it was a waste of his time and had destroyed that last living memory of her).

He stuck his feet in the koi pond without even caring if he should. The grass felt damp around it, cool under his fingertips, soaking a bit into his pants. But Tobirama didn’t care, didn’t let himself care about anything while he soaked in this small bit of peace he’d found amongst the enemy.

The tension in the house was unbearable. Not that anyone else there had actively done something to make him uncomfortable, save for perhaps Izuna’s pointed and _hateful_ glares. Madara, on the other hand, was just…certainly an experience to live with, and Tobirama firmly refused to think about his experiences with _that_ at the moment.

Tajima expected him to bare children at some point. Some point soon, of course. That meant that Madara and himself had to actively try for one beyond simply laying together on their wedding night. Something that caused Tobirama no small amount of flustered _horror_ despite how relatively untraumatizing seeing Madara _in the nude_ had been – and how far from unpleasant the experiences had been so far.

And that was a thought Tobirama never thought he’d ever have to think in his life. He pushed a toe into the muddy bottom of the koi pond, firmly reminding himself that this was something he _didn__’t_ want to think about. Not now, and not ever. Even if he had to lay with Madara it didn’t mean he had to think about it outside of the situation itself.

Besides, that would ultimately be the thing that would kill him anyway.

He threw his head back, leaning back on his palms to stare up at the sky. The sun had yet to peek over the surrounding house which was a wondrous thing; his skin had always been extra sensitive to direct sunlight, something that had caused him great irritation throughout his childhood and teens. Having no access to his usual lotion that prevented that now meant he’d be avoiding it as much as possible. So the clouds and the enclosed area were a true blessing, letting him enjoy being outside for the first time in what felt like _years_ without the horrid burns it might have caused him otherwise.

The peace couldn’t last, of course. He felt Madara’s chakra heading for the house - it had been burning somewhere else in the compound for over a few hours already – and the moment he felt him heading his way was the moment he realized the man felt _furious_. Tobirama instantly pulled his feet out of the pond, suddenly realizing that coming out here without knowing if he was even allowed to was a _bad idea_.

Madara was stronger than him. A _lot_ stronger than him, no matter how it stung to think on it, and was in his natural element here, with a compound and clan full of supporters that would have his back. Where Tobirama was _alone_ without any right or say to what he should be allowed to do.

He hated that he was afraid - but he was. With that red swirling miasma of chakra headed his way all he knew was that he _couldn__’t be here_, but he didn’t know exactly where he could go besides the room that _belonged_ to that mass of chakra.

It was his best bet anyway. The one place he knew he was allowed to be, even if it didn’t feel safe. Tobirama was on his feet and forcing himself not to rush inside a moment later, keeping his pace unassuming and as natural as possible as he headed straight to the shared room.

Something inside of him had said he’d be able to breathe easier once the door was shut behind him, but he couldn’t. All he could do was pace, and then stand stalk still once he felt Madara enter the house, almost afraid to move in case it drew unwanted attention to his presence.

Feeling like prey had never been common in his life. But that’s all he could think of then, that he had become some small animal that lived amongst a pack of wolves, jumpy and _knowing_ that the teeth and claws would come - but he’d never been helpless in his life before. Even at his smallest he’d known how to defend himself, had carried a kunai on his person and known exactly where to strike an attacker to make sure they at least went with him.

He was disgusted with himself. Furious at his own responses despite knowing full well it was a hopeless situation for him. That was why he reacted in such a way, after all; there was nothing he could do, and therefore his body and mind had decided to merely _let_ the eventual death take him.

But what else could he do?

He could have run. Left. Maybe before the ceremony had ever taken place, which would have been easier than trying to escape an enemy’s compound for sure. But that would have meant betraying Hashirama, betraying the man’s desperate hopes for the peace he’d been clawing towards with his every breath from the his very first.

And he couldn’t do that. Not then, not now. Tobirama forced his muscles to untense, standing in the middle of the room that smelled so strongly of Madara, tugging a hand through his hair. He knew full well he couldn’t leave, wouldn’t ever leave even if the panic making his blood race screamed at him to do so. Running would not solve anything but it _would_ guarantee that Hashirama’s heart would be shattered to pieces - and it would be _his fault_ it happened.

Not that Hashirama wouldn’t be heart broken over his death either, but that at least wouldn’t entirely be his own fault. If he had to choose between either…maybe it was a touch selfish but Tobirama didn’t ever want to see his brother so disappointed in him, not again. Not after the river, when his brother had refused to look at him for weeks.

Peace was everything to his brother, and Tobirama wouldn’t ever take the active role in taking that from him.

His head snapped to look at the door whenever he felt Madara’s fuming coming nearer. Dread filled him, and he knew without actually knowing that the man was coming there. That same anger that he’d felt on the battlefield, on the _opposite side_ of the battlefield, was headed his way. It wouldn’t be distracted by his brother this time. Hashirama wasn’t here to face its brute force with his own, and that left Tobirama to deal with it without weapons or knowledge of how to talk it down.

The door opened, rattling in its frame. Madara filled the room in an intangible sort of way, overtaking everything else as his chakra seethed, his own face twisted in anger as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Leaving the two of them alone.

Tobirama did not take a step back. He wished he wasn’t in the middle of the room.

It took only a few everlasting seconds for Madara to realize he was there. Seconds that left Tobirama wanting to be anywhere but there - anywhere but in a small, cramped room that belong to the other man, the other man who was the second strongest shinobi in their country and who would suffer no immediate consequences from taking his anger out on whatever he so chose to.

Madara had not been cruel to him - _yet_. And for that moment that key word meant everything.

“What are you doing?”

It was a question intoned like a statement. All the conscious effort Tobirama had couldn’t keep him from flinching, couldn’t keep him from looking away from the other as fast as he could.

Answer. He had to come up with an answer. Tobirama did not know his new mate very well on a personal level (he knew much of him as an enemy: his fighting style, what jutsu he defaulted to in a pinch, how his chakra singed everything it touched, how it seethed and flicked out when confronted with a fallen comrade) but he knew he was not a patient man. Being raised by one with just as much impatience at least helped him fake his way through part of one, his hand waving in gesture - slow gesture; fast movements were unwise - at the room about them. “I was just…here.”

Not a good answer. Madara’s sharingan hadn’t been active so Tobirama assumed he could get away with a lie, but as soon as the alpha’s gaze flickered down Tobirama knew it was bad.

His pants. The ends of his pants were wet, and so were his feet. There might have even been mud on part of his toes. He curled them before he could stop himself, feeling himself otherwise freeze in place.

Madara’s nose curled, and that alone had Tobirama swallowing. The man’s chakra was still swirling with fury and he knew - he _knew_ he shouldn’t have gone out to the pond without permission. Shouldn’t have even left the room without asking and making sure he could, and yet he _had_, and now whatever honeymoon of politeness and near kindness they’d been having would be ending over such a stupid and inane venture outdoors.

“You’re going to track muck everywhere like that.”

It took a second to process anything beyond his tone. Tobirama could only breathe, blinking faster than normal, confused up until a towel he hadn’t even noticed Madara fetching ended up tossed right at his face - confused because Madara’s tone hadn’t been as furious as the man had felt only a minute before. He’d just sounded…exasperated. With normal levels of frustration in his words despite how his chakra still swirled and seethed quietly below the surface.

Why, though? Why wasn’t he lashing out? Taking some of the anger out at the only other person in the room, someone he could easily get away with doing such with? It didn’t make any sense to Tobirama, the thought that Madara would have such control over the anger that he so often let loose, or that he’d even bother _trying_ to have control around someone he’d been raised to kill or maim or torture for information since birth.

Madara was a mystery in and of himself that he’d need to unravel at least to some degree while he still could. If only to keep himself from going insane while he waited for the inevitable to come to him. Still, he could hardly do such at that moment, considering the man was furious, and despite how confusing it was for him Tobirama really had no desire to test his luck and poke the angry bear. Instead, he bent down and made sure to wipe his feet dry, the whole while listening to the mumbled grumblings of the other occupant in the room.

At least he didn’t stay long. Within a few minutes, he’d managed to fish whatever it was he’d been after out of one of the wall closets, sliding it shut and not bothering to say or gesture a farewell towards Tobirama before he was off again. It didn’t really bother him at least. Tobirama just continued to sit there in the floor, slightly damp towel in hand, watching his own toes as he spread them out while he thought over the oddness that had just happened.

Maybe this meant he was at least allowed to visit the little pond. Not like there was anywhere else around that Madara could’ve assumed he’d visited, and since he didn’t get lectured _or worse_ over it…

Why he was bothering to prolong his life here, Tobirama really wasn’t sure. Survival instinct, fighting against the inevitable. But he was glad to know anyway that he wouldn’t be stuck inside - in this single room - while he was here.

He could assume so, anyway. One of the safer assumptions he could make concerning his situation, so he would make it. So the moment he felt his path clear of anyone else, Madara off doing what was no doubt clan business or something of that ilk, Tobirama went right back to the pond and spent the rest of his afternoon there, by the koi pond’s edge even when the sun peeked over the house to burn him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter Update:** Who even knows, man. On hiatus.
> 
> Terminology:  
Souzu - a type of water fountain used in Japanese gardens, where water pours into bamboo and results in the bamboo hitting rocks sharply. It is a type of shishi-odoshi, or 'scareboar/scaredeer', made to startle away herbivores that might nom in the garden.


End file.
